


Unmoored

by speakingwosound (sev313)



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Genderswap, White House Era (Crooked Media RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 03:09:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14991476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sev313/pseuds/speakingwosound
Summary: "I don't do this very often.”"Me neither," Lovett promises then, when Dan grunts in disbelief, "what? That healthcare thing wasn't actually a come on. Who the hell would that work on?"





	Unmoored

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Dan Week](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/comeonandslamandwelcometothedan) day four "genderswap."

"You have to see it from my perspective." Dan swirls her drinks, uncrossing and recrossing her legs.

Joe 'of the Washington Post, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance' raises an eyebrow over a bite of overdone steak. "Which is?"

"That Congress has overstepped on this one and you can't be objective about that."

"I thought that's what you'd say." Joe sets down his fork and folds his napkin. "I don't know why I even bother."

"Because I'm the White House Communications Director and all access goes through me." Dan raises an eyebrow, still swirling her drink. "And it's my job to knock you down a peg or two."

"You've been knocking us down since you took office three months ago."

"And yet you keep writing the same stories." Dan leans forward. "Bring me something new and I might just have something new to say about it."

Joe shakes his head as he rises to find their waitress and hand over his Post credit card. When they're alone, Joe's associate leans forward, blinking her eyelashes at Dan.

"You know," she says, dropping her voice low under the dim of DC's elite diners conducting business all around them, "us women have to stick together. There aren't so many of us in Washington."

Dan just holds back from rolling her eyes, but she does take an actual, long sip of her drink. The whiskey is weak, watered down by the ice and the sour mix and the bartender's attempts to cheat her out of the top shelf. "I'm curious, where do you stand on the public option?"

The associate’s eyes go wide and her cheeks flush. She pulls back, crossing her legs in front of her, an obvious and clumsy attempt to build a barrier between them.

"You're right," Dan continues, her voice just as low, "there aren't a lot of women in Washington. That means we have to be smarter and faster. Come find me when you've done your homework." She stands, dropping her napkin onto her chair and taking her drink with her. "Oh, and give my thanks to Joe, would you?"

Dan doesn't look back as she crosses to the bar. She swings her handbag over the back of the tall chair and leans forward to wave her drink at the bartender.

"Hey, Sam, I know you didn't make me this weak shit."

Sam drapes his towel over his shoulder and takes it from her, smelling it and frowning. "If I had known it was for you-" he reaches for a bottle of top shelf rye and hands her a new glass, on the rocks.

"Appreciated." Dan smiles as she hands over a few bills.

"The public option will create competition and force premiums down."

Dan looks to her left. "What?"

The girl shakes her head, curls spilling out of her messy bun and onto her neck. "Oh, sorry, was that question only for journalists?" She shifts, pulling her knee onto her chair and reaching out her hand. "I'm Lovett. Definitely not a journalist, but I have done my homework."

"Danielle," Dan takes Lovett's hand. Her palms are a little sweaty and her handshake isn't very strong. She can't have been in DC long. "Everyone calls me Dan."

Lovett snorts. "Of course they do."

Dan leans against the bar, her drink dangling from her fingertips. "I don't know what you're implying, but-"

"I'm not implying anything." Lovett drops her elbow onto the bar, tilting her head like she's seeing straight through Dan's crisp black skirt suit. "About your name, at least. The public option?" She shrugs, her shoulders strong under her sweater. "Is fine. If it goes well, it'll put us on the path towards single-payer, certainly. Did you even consider, though, going directly for single-payer?"

Dan narrows her eyes. "Not a journalist?"

Lovett shakes her head. "Concerned and a little over-informed, maybe, but not a journalist."

Lovett's eyes are dark, her cheeks a little flushed where she's scrunching them to peer, challengingly at Dan. It's been a long time since Dan's felt so challenged, even longer since she's felt a such a draw towards someone. But Lovett's hands are long and smooth against her own cheek and her entire body leans towards Dan's as she talks about healthcare.

Dan waves her drink at Sam. "Another one of these please. And another-" She waves at Lovett's glass.

"Miller Lite," Lovett supplies.

"Of fucking course," Dan shakes her head, but she can't help the laughter that tugs at the edges of her mouth.

***

Lovett tastes like cheap beer and even cheaper lip gloss as Dan presses her back against the mirror the moment the elevator shuts behind them. Dan feels a little lightheaded, from the whiskey or Lovett's mouth or the rushed, heady feeling of sneaking away to a near-strangers hotel room, she's not sure.

"My floor," Lovett says, as the doors click open again and she pulls back just far enough to tug Dan down the hallway. She stops in front of 708, looking dazed for a moment, until Dan ducks her hand into the front pocket of Lovett's maroon jeans, pulling out her key card. Lovett licks her lips. "Thanks," she murmurs, as Dan pushes them both inside.

"I don't do this very often," she feels the need to warn, once they’re inside and confronted with Hilton's pristine, mundane decor under the hurricane of Lovett's belongings, strewn out of her suitcase and across the room.

"Me neither," Lovett promises then, when Dan grunts in disbelief, "what? That healthcare thing wasn't actually a come on. Who the hell would that work on?"

Dan widens her eyes.

"Well," Lovett sits on the edge of the bed, reaching for Dan's hips and pulling her close. She tugs at Dan's dress shirt, untucking it from her skirt and sliding her fingers under the hem to rest on the warm, trembling skin of Dan's stomach. "You were unexpected."

Dan hums, not really wanting Lovett to know how unexpected she is, too. Before Iowa, unexpected. Before the campaign and the White House and before she'd made a silent pact with herself that eight years isn't really _that_ long to wait. Eight years of twelve hours days and seven day weeks. She wouldn't even miss it, she told herself, and she hadn't been. Hadn't even jerked off more than a handful of times since Inauguration.

Lovett slides her hands up to cup Dan's breasts over her practical tan bra, pulling her out of her thoughts. Dan's body tingles all the way down to her toes and she pushes forward, into Lovett's hands. Unexpected is the understatement of the year.

Dan slides off her kitten heels and presses a knee to the bed, between Lovett's legs. Lovett lifts her hips, rubbing her jeans against Dan's thigh and then has to catch herself on her wrists before she topples them both onto the floor.

Dan laughs. "That whole suave thing you had going. That's just an act, huh?"

"Sussed that out did you?" Lovett chuckles, as she arches her hips and lets Dan pull her sweater over her head. "Oh yeah, I'm, ahh-" Dan slides her finger along the lace edge of Lovett's worn black bra, pebbling her nipples with her thumb, and Lovett sighs. "-a disaster of a person."

"I'm getting that," Dan tells her, dodging Lovett's knee as she flicks open the clasp on her bra. Her breasts are small in Dan's hands, but she groans and arches into the touch. Dan swallows as she watches the flush spread down Lovett's chest, over the soft, pale skin of her belly and disappear under her waistband. "But it's working for you."

"Yeah?" Lovett spreads her legs, knocking her knee against Dan's.

Dan ignores her in favor of following the path of Lovett's flush. She trails her hands down Lovett's stomach, slipping a finger under Lovett's belt and, when Lovett sucks in her stomach, sliding her entire hand under. Her fingertips brush against lace and curls and she closes her eyes. "Fuck," she breaths. "Yeah, it really is. Can I?"

Lovett nods, arching her hips so Dan can pull her hideous maroon pants off. She drops them onto the ground, then traces her hands up Lovett's thighs, pushing them apart with intent. Lovett squirms, and Dan can see how wet she is, staining her underwear and shining around the elastic in the soft hollows of her thighs.

Dan presses her thumb to the wet spot and Lovett keens, bending almost in half. Dan laughs at her, pulling her underwear to the floor then pressing her forearm across Lovett's stomach. She brushes her fingers, safe and steadying, against Lovett's hip as she lowers her mouth.

Lovett is so responsive. Her breath is broken, unsteady moans and gasps filling the hotel room. She tastes bitter on Dan's tongue, pushing down, asking for more and more and more, until her thighs start to tremble and she gasps, her stomach rippling under Dan's arm. Dan soothes her through it and into a second orgasm, until she grabs at Dan's hair, urging her up and into a messy, disorienting kiss.

Dan's head is hazy, hovering just this side of the edge, as Lovett slides her tongue along Dan's to taste herself there. Dan reaches back, getting the clasp on her skirt undone and squirming to get it off, before she's moving against Lovett's thigh. Lovett lifts her knee, tightening her muscles and pressing up, mirroring the rhythm of their hips with her tongue.

Dan gasps into Lovett's mouth, "yeah, there, just a little-" Lovett angles her thigh just a little to the left and Dan hangs there for a long moment before she topples headlong over the edge.

"So fucking hot." Lovett stretches out, pushing Dan to the side and curling a few inches from her. "Both the sex and this room."

Dan laughs. She should leave - she has Senior Staff at eight and a mountain of media to get through before then - but Lovett's reaching over the bed, the long line of her back rippling as she fishes Dan's phone out of her skirt and is holding it a little nervously.

"So I, ahh, know this was supposed to be, like, a one time thing. But, I'm gonna be in town for a little while and-" She bites her lip, shrugs, types a few things into Dan's contacts. "Call me, sometime. If you ever have more steam to blow off."

"Yeah," Dan whispers, knowing she shouldn't, knowing, already, that she might. She slides her hands under her pillow. "Okay."

***

It's not yet dawn when Dan's blackberry alarm wakes her. She quiets it quickly, rolling out of bed and gathering her clothes as gracefully as she can. She takes a shower, then spares a moment to look back at Lovett, her curls wild across her pillow and her face open in the moonlight, before Dan slips out the door.

Dan's often one of the first ones in, so Gerry at security just nods tiredly and let's her through. There are a few lights on in the West Wing, and she sincerely thinks about trying to sneak by Favs' open door, then cringes to herself and stops, drumming her knuckles lightly against the door jamb. "Morning."

Favs looks up, pushing her pen into the band of her tight ponytail and reaching for her large Starbucks cup. "Hey."

"The EPA?"

Favs glances down at the speech in front of her. It's covered in so much of POTUS' handwriting that she might as well start over. "Yeah. This clean energy section is giving me hell."

Dan hums. "It's hard to write about clean energy when you don't understand clean energy."

Dan can see Favs' eyes twitch as she holds herself back from rolling them. "I have a meeting with the Energy Secretary today."

"Good." There's a second cup on the edge of Favs’ desk and Dan nods at it. "Is this-?"

"Yeah." Favs pushes it towards her. "I knew you'd be in early, so-"

"Thanks." Dan steps forward, really meaning it. She's sore from last night, her head pounding a bit from the whiskey and the receding rush of adrenaline.

"Hey." Favs raises an eyebrow. "Isn't that the same suit you were wearing yesterday?"

Dan's pulse beats loud in her ears as she looks down. She smoothes her hand over her dress shirt, wrinkled in the patterns of Lovett's fingertips. "Laundry day," she offers. "My last clean clothes are in my office."

Favs nods, already turning back to her speech. At some point, Dan's going to have to question how the Occam's Razor of her life is laundry day. That point is not now, though, so she waves the coffee at Favs and retreats to her office.

***

"Dan, you're late." Dan’s secretary stands in her doorway, tapping his foot. "Actually, at this point, we should just say you're fashionably early for your four o'clock rather than tragically late for your two o'clock."

"Can I skip my two o'clock?" Dan asks, a little hopefully, as she makes one last note on her page, then gathers the mess of papers into her arms.

"No." Jim dumps three additional folders into her hands and follows her out the door.

"Didn't think so," she mutters as they cross through the lobby. "We need Representative Cantor for banking reform and it's not like he already-"

She stops short.

"Who's that?"

"Hmm?" Jim glances up from the laminated schedule card in his hands. "Who?"

Dan points at the curly, bowed head sitting on the visitor's waiting bench. Her back is hunched over her phone, but Dan kissed down that spine just last night. She'd recognize it anywhere.

As Dan's watching, Lovett looks up, her face splitting into a wide, surprised grin. Dan's stomach flips, but she pushes the feeling away as she nods towards the closest office and assumes Lovett will follow her.

"Where are you going?" Jim calls after her.

"I'm already late, what's a few more minutes?" Dan asks, as she waves him away and closes the door behind Lovett.

"If you were trying to be subtle-" Lovett starts. She leans against the desk and crosses her arms across her chest.

"What are you doing here?" Dan interrupts, blood pounding in her ears, down her spine, all the way to her toes. "Did you _follow_ me here?"

Lovett flinches back, her shoulders tightening as they curve inwards. "What?"

"Did you-?" Dan takes a deep, steadying breath, but it doesn't do much to chase the nightmares of tomorrow's monitoring report from her head. _White House Communications Director Seen Fornicating With Another Woman_. _Close Obama Aide Seen With Known DC Escort_. _Obama Too Soft on Women's Issues? Danielle Pfeiffer, One of Obama's Top Advisors, Caught Red Handed. Picture Below_.

Dan makes a mental note to remind the media monitors to stop including the Enquirer in her morning report.

"Do you think-?" Lovett frowns. "Wow. I don't know if I should be flattered or horrified with who you think I am. The kind of exacting, bordering on obsessive, attention to detail I’d need to track you down, kinda flattered. The lack of attention to morals and ethics, kinda horrified." She tilts her head. "On the whole, I'm coming down on flattered, but-"

Dan pinches the bridge of her nose. "Okay, okay, you're proving your point. No one could possibly _talk this much_ and run a covert operation."

"Well, now I'm offended." Lovett crosses her ankles under the second pair of maroon pants she's worn in as many days. "Relax. I can read this whole deer in headlights, so-deep-in-the-closet you're-behind-the-prom-dress thing you've got going on from a mile away. Could read it last night, even."

Dan flushes. She knows she was obvious last night, awkward and a little unpracticed, but she's in the middle of a self-imposed dry spell, she hasn’t forgotten everything. "Prom dress? I'm at least at graduation robes level?"

The edges of Lovett's mouth twitch. "You took one look at me in the West Wing lobby and ignored what I can only assume is a very important meeting to chastise me for stalking you. That might be baby blanket-levels of closeting."

Dan crosses her arms across the folders pressed to her chest. "I work in politics."

"You picked me up at the Georgetown Hilton. What was the chance I didn't work in politics?"

"You had a room," Dan argues. "And-" She motions down Lovett's body.

Lovett glances down at herself, flexing her thigh so she can lift her leg. Dan's mouth goes dry. She must flush, too, because Lovett raises a self-satisfied eyebrow at her. "Today's my first day," she explains, dropping her leg slowly. "And Senator Gillibrand only cares about how I write, not how I dress."

There's a knock on the door and Jim dips his head in. "Dan?"

"Yeah, yeah, I've gotta-" Dan points at Jim.

Lovett shrugs. "I didn't pull _you_ in here."

Dan pauses, but Jim is tapping his foot again and she's now over an hour behind. She glances one last time at Lovett, then slips out.

***

Dan spends a couple of weeks jumping every time a reporter calls her, waiting for "Hi, Ms. Pfeiffer, we've got a story you might want to comment on." But as conversation by conversation filters by in offices and hotel bars and Morton's without the story breaking, she gives up her anxiety to the looming healthcare battle.

They're nearing the end of a long week leading up to Congressional recess, when Favs stops at her doorway. "Hot dogs and hamburgers at Tommy's place on Sunday."

"We're going to be working on this," Dan motions at her binder on the individual mandate, "on Sunday."

"After," Favs promises. "Bring beer."

Dan is grateful, in the end, for the excuse to close her binders and rest her weary eyes by mid-afternoon on Sunday. She changes into a sundress and takes a growler and a handle of gin with her to Tommy's.

"Hey, Dan, back here." Favs calls, hoping on her bare feet against the hot pavement as she leads Dan back to the porch. "The grill's already going and Lovett- have you met Lovett? She's on Gillibrand's staff, but I'm thinking of poaching her-"

"Senator Gillibrand," Dan corrects, automatically, then holds out her hand. "Dan."

"I know who you are," Lovett says, eyeing Dan's hand carefully. Dan sucks in a breath, and doesn't let it out until Lovett reaches out to shake her hand. It's a little stronger than it was back at the hotel in Georgetown and Dan tries not to regret the part she’s played in that. Lovett, though, just smiles a bland smile that makes her face look thinner. "Lovett."

Favs claps their shoulders. "Lovett moved in with Tommy a few weeks ago-"

"She put an ad on the message board-" Lovett defends, quickly.

"-and she's terrible in the kitchen. Don't let her anywhere near that grill."

"I am not-" Lovett starts, then deflates, her shoulders straightening as she sighs. "Fine, whatever, my brain wasn’t born for the kitchen. Good thing I wasn’t born in 1882, I couldn’t have skated by on joke writing or Assassin’s Creed.”

“You have other assets,” Favs winks.

Dan tries not to choke on the drink she doesn't even have yet - “I’m gonna go make myself something strong” - and flees to the kitchen.

She makes herself a gin and tonic, then another, then another. It's a beautiful DC evening, and she’s feeling slightly tipsy as she leans against the railing, ignoring the pollen settling into her hair as she eats a hot dog with her fingers.

Across the deck, Lovett is regaling the speech writing staff with, as far as Dan can tell, a full body critique of race relations in Avatar. Favs’ head is thrown back with laughter, her collarbone strong and tan in the low cut of her dress. As Dan watches, she loses her balance and catches herself again, this time half a foot closer to Lovett, their shoulders brushing.

Dan sighs. Favs is just young and optimistic enough to throw caution to the wind and give it a go. Favs could make it work. The pictures on Gawker, her hand in Lovett's outside the 930 Club or that new wine bar on 14th. The press questions about when she knew and how it's affecting her writing. The intimations behind closed doors that she's too close to the Senator’s office. Favs would just smile, flip her hair off her shoulders, cry a little against Dan’s, late at night, but be at it again in the morning.

Dan wants to have it in her, but she's been in politics longer. She’s heard everything women whisper, in the OEOB locker room and at hotel bars, and she's been the subject enough times to know that whatever it is Favs has - whatever beauty or innocence or charisma factor - Dan doesn't have it. 

“It’s premature to bet on the Sox winning the whole thing, of course, but an 11 game streak isn't anything to sneeze at.” Tommy shrugs. “Dan, what are you-?”

She turns, following Dan’s gaze, her eyes widening.

“I'll take that bet,” Dan says, quickly. 

Tommy crosses her arms, her beer dangling from her fingertips. “Bad odds, for me.”

“High risk, high reward.” Dan swallows. Across the deck, Lovett finishes her story and settles against the railing, removing herself subtly from the conversation. Her hair catches in the moonlight, curls framed around her neck as she slides away from the group. _High risk, high reward._

Tommy hums. “A year’s supply of blooming onions.”

“That seems-” Dan tilts her head away from Lovett to laugh at Tommy. “Underwhelming. Has anyone ever told you to set your sights higher?”

“Everyday,” Tommy says, laughing with her. “But, hear me out. You're missing a key factor.”

“Which is?”

“Exactly how many blooming onions I can eat in a year.”

“Oh,” Dan shakes her head, “I was with you in Iowa. I know exactly how many onion-flavored carbs you can eat.”

“All of them,” Tommy agrees, holding her hand out to shake on the bet. “Speaking of carbs, I need another beer. You good?”

Dan shakes her nearly-empty glass, thinks about the stack of briefing books in her bag, and nods. “A beer would be good.”

She's another couple in, the party still going strong, when she gives into the pull of her work and starts thinking about heading home. She passes through the kitchen, dropping her empty bottles next to the sink, when she freezes.

Lovett’s lying on her side on the couch, playing Call of Duty half-handed. When she sees Dan, though, she sits up, pulling her vintage Nintendo t-shirt down to cover the sliver of skin over her waist. She crosses her feet in front of her, her strong, pale knees tucked under her chin. “Before you say anything, I didn't know you knew Tommy when I took this place.”

“That’s exactly what a stalker would say,” Dan argues as she slides onto the other half of the sectional. “I’m, ahh, really sorry. About introducing myself earlier.”

Lovett shrugs. On screen, her character dies and she sighs deeply, dropping her controller onto the couch between them. "Don't know how we'd explain it." She shrugs again, pushing at the edge of her glasses with the back of her index finger. Her eyes are wide and the deepest shade of brown behind her lenses. "Except the truth. And you're not- into that."

"Not-" Dan frowns. "I'm into the truth. Like, generally.”

Lovett shrugs. “I really do get it. Politics is a rough enough game already. I get not wanting to pile onto that.”

Dan flinches. The full force of Lovett’s understanding and disappointment buries itself deep under her skin. “How do you do it?”

“I like being gay more than I like being myself,” she shrugs, like it's the easiest thing she's ever admitted to. Her words are at odds with the slight trembling in her knees.

“I like POTUS more than I like being gay or being myself,” Dan admits, tipping her voice like it's a joke but almost certain that she misses.

Lovett pulls her legs closer, resting her chin on them. “I understand loving like that.”

Dan swallows. Her entire body is shaking towards Lovett, but her mind is on the staffers still out on her deck and POTUS halfway across town. “Would you believe me if I told you that I wish things were different?’

“Yes,” she says, simply.

Dan nods, pushing herself up from the couch. “I've gotta, um-”

Lovett picks up her controller, dropping her knees the couch. Dan can see the long lines of her inner thighs, and she has to look away. 

“I have soldiers to kill.”

“Well, I’ll, ahh, leave you to it.”

Dan leaves before she can look back.

***

The ACA fight is in full swing when Dan sees Lovett again. Dan's caught glimpses of her, in the Capitol hallways and across the mess and in passing at Tommy’s, but Dan hasn't seen her, not for real, until she gets to a meeting on insurance incentives and finds Lovett at the table.

“Should we wait for Senator Gillibrand?” Dan asks, as she drums her fingers against her blackberry.

Lovett’s eyes narrow. “I'm representing Senator Gillibrand.”

Dan clears her throat. “Okay, then, let's get started.”

Lovett crosses her leg in front of her, tipping her chair back, and launches into a nuanced and evidenced defense of the B clause in Section C of the bill. Dan flips to the page, then leans back and watches Lovett talk.

Dan knew, from the first moment she met her, that Lovett is smart. Articulate. Passionate about the things she’s passionate about, like healthcare and her sexuality and, maybe, just maybe, Dan’s mouth. Watching her now, though, as she extrapolates off her talking points, Dan’s so struck by the warmth and energy of it that she almost, _almost_ , forgets why she's here.

“I see that,” Dan says, finally, as Lovett reaches for the venti iced coffee at her elbow. “But the House Committee is demanding its removal. Do you want a healthcare bill without the clause, or is this the sword you want to die on?”

“We passed that sword miles back,” Lovett promises her. Then she deflates, her shoulders folding inwards. “I’ll take this back to the Senator.”

“And,” Dan nudges, “can the President count on her support?”

Lovett’s eyes flash and she taps her fingers against her knee. “She’ll have to read over the amendment, but, she wants this done as much as the White House does.”

“That’s good to hear. I'll take it back to the President,” Dan signals the end of the meeting. Their teams start packing up around her, but Dan doesn't move. “Would have been fun, though, to go ten rounds on it.”

“Nah,” Lovett smirks. “I only like fighting with people who disagree with me.”

Dan chuckles, flushing a little under her collar. She starts to roll up the sleeves of her button-down. “Me too.”

“I know,” Lovett admits. “I picked you up with a line about _public healthcare_.”

Dan shrugs. “I'm easy.”

Lovett’s eyes widen and she let's the front legs of her chair crash to the ground. “You- Fuck. You are the hardest I’ve ever tried for. And I'm _still_ failing.”

“Lovett-” Dan swallows. Lovett is everything she's ever worried she'd find, and so much more. “I don’t- How do I know-? I met you the day before you started on the Hill. This is a high powered-”

“Stop.” Lovett glares at her. “I did not fucking sleep with you to get the inside scoop on insurance incentives. Fuck.”

Dan blinks at her. “I wasn't implying-” 

“Stop implying,” Lovett picks it up, emphasizing the word, “that I had ulterior motives to sleep with you. I slept with you because I liked you. God only knows why.”

Lovett rolls her eyes, gathering up her notebook and pausing at the door. “I'll have Senator Gillibrand get back to you by the end of the day.”

Dan closes her eyes as the door hisses shut behind Lovett.

***

“You heading home?” Favs asks her, as they're headed back to their offices after calling a full-lid for the evening. “Tommy and I were thinking of heading to Ted’s Bulletin for boozy milkshakes.”

“I'd love to,” Dan says, sincerely, “but, work.” She pats the folder in her hands.

“Your loss,” Favs waves. “We’ll grab you a homemade pop tart.”

Dan heads into her office, kicking off her heels and stretching out on her couch with the full binder of insurance incentives research.

By the time she’s done with it, her eyes are blurred and burning and the West Wing is quiet except for the cleaning staff humming along to _She Wolf_ as they work. She puts the research aside, sitting up and reaching for her phone.

_clause b isn't going to happen_

Her phone rings immediately and Lovett’s already talking when she answers it.

“I already know that.”

“Yeah,” Dan agrees. “But I was looking for a loophole and, there isn't one.”

“You-” Lovett coughs, clearing her throat. Her sheets rustle. “Have you been looking into this since this morning?”

“I did other work,” Dan defends herself. “But, yeah. I needed to, you know, make sure. And I thought you'd wanna know.”

“I appreciate that you thought about me at-” Lovett pauses, then groans. “3:23 in the morning.”

Dan shrugs, but her heart is pounding in her ears and sweat is pooling in her lower back. “This is what you're signing up for. With me.”

Lovett catches her breath.

“I was thinking, maybe-” She can't hear over the rush in her ears. “Drinks? At my place. I make a mean martini, if you're up for it.”

“I prefer something a little sweeter,” Lovett argues, but, then, softly, “yeah, that, ahh sounds nice. Preferably before 3 am though.”

Dan chuckles. “How about Saturday? At 8?”

“That's- yeah, okay. Saturday.”

Dan hangs up the phone and lies back on her couch. Her entire body is trembling, but the adrenaline is rushing away and she can still get a couple hours of sleep in.

She puts Saturday drinks in her calendar and closes her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos much appreciated! Come chat with me on [Tumblr](http://stainyourhands.tumblr.com/%22)


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